


Anthems for a Seventeen Year Old Girl

by stilinskitrash



Series: gendrya one shots [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Childhood Friends, College, Crushes, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Making Out, One Shot, Recreational Drug Use, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 22:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16376387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stilinskitrash/pseuds/stilinskitrash
Summary: Before college, boys were all just like her brothers. Which was to say, more tolerable than a lot of the girls in her classes, not many of which seemed to ever like Arya. Now she was irritated by how cute the boy a few rows in front of her in history class was, and the how she’d developed all these other feelings that she hadn’t been fussed with in secondary school.Gendry Waters was no exception. In fact, she blamed him; he’d been a catalyst in these new revelations, hanging around their house every week looking like that.





	Anthems for a Seventeen Year Old Girl

**Author's Note:**

> me posting a fic: please take my trash  
> majorly un-beta'd... so mistakes are my own im just useless  
> title from song of the same name by broken social scene  
> ALSO this fic uses many british/english mannerisms as i am english and i mean... got/asoiaf TECHNICALLY is set there also cause i do what i want but anyway so for you americans etc, COLLEGE doesn't mean university. here it means sixth form college which is technically the last 2 years of high school. okay cool.

Arya sat on the curb and lit the cigarette she'd stolen from Jon earlier that day. She hadn't ever smoked before—she wasn't even sure she knew  _ how _ to smoke. Jon had picked it up as a habit in the months since he'd started his second year of sixth form college, sneaking a smoke out of his bedroom window or on the corner of the street when he thought no one was around. But Arya had smelt it on him, and was suddenly eager to also participate in this so-called rebellious act too. Of course, Jon had laughed and said  _ fuck no _ when she'd asked. So really it was his own fault she'd stolen one. He’d driven her to do it.

The street lamp on their cul-de-sac flickered as golden hour faded into the night sky, stars emerging from behind the clearing clouds. A few birds still sang, but the suburbs were desolate of human faces. They usually were. She hated living in the middle of nowhere.

Arya shivered and tugged her sweater closer to her chest and over the top of her knees.

She ran her thumb along the switch of the red lighter—that she'd also stolen—to no avail, so many times in fact that the skin became sore and she had to switch hands. Was it supposed to be this damn hard? If she tried anymore times she was sure her thumb would bleed. 

"That's bad for you, you know."

Arya dropped the cigarette and lighter in a blind panic, whipping around to the person who'd snuck up on her. Her eyes fell on a familiar broad shouldered frame and vibrant blue irises, staring at her with his brows raised in smug amusement.

She rolled her eyes, snatching the cigarette back up and almost crushing it in her palm out of frustration. "It's none of your business, Gendry." she bit through gritted teeth.

He smiled lopsidedly, his hands shoved in his pockets as he moved to stand over where she sat. "Where did you even get it?"

"None of your business." Arya practically growled. She didn't have time for an interrogation from one of Jon's best friends, especially if the fact that she'd stolen the cigarette  _ from  _ Jon got back to him.

"Aren't you like, fifteen?" 

Okay— _ now _ she was really irritated. "I’m  _ sixteen _ , you stupid, bullheaded boy! Go climb up Jon's window or whatever you're here to do. Leave me alone."

Gendry raised his hands in faux defence, his amusement growing by the minute, "sorry, m'lady. But sixteen still isn't legal to smoke, I don't think." 

"You smoked when  _ you  _ were sixteen." She rounded on him. Gendry had been hanging around with Jon and at the Stark house since her brothers were in their first years of high school. He was round theirs every week, playing video games, watching TV, pigging out with Jon and Robb and Sam, antagonising Theon, avoiding Sansa. 

Arya had one day—quite abruptly—noticed that the gangly, raven haired boy from the other side of town had become a stocky, well built teenager that she hardly recognised. He worked out, for god's sake, he played on the local rugby team. She’d been to his games. He went from making Arya shout whenever he walked into her room accidentally to making her shout  _ and  _ blush; she didn’t like it.

Gendry shrugged like she hadn’t made a particularly valid point. "Do as I say not as I do."

"Shut up." She grumbled tiredly. The cigarette was bent in half from being squished in her clenched fists. She hadn’t even gotten to try it.

Gendry watched her for a moment with an expression she couldn't quite read, making her shuffle about anxiously. He seemed like he had something on his mind, but he shook it off casually and redirected his course to climbing in through Jon’s bedroom window. As if Catelyn wouldn’t let him in the front door. (Which, to be fair, she might not have—their father, Ned, was the more lenient parent.)

She watched him scale the side of the house using windowsills as footholds, and scramble without grace through her brother’s bedroom window. Arya seethed with anger and embarrassment and confusion. All she’d wanted was a goddamn smoke. 

Retreating back to the house, she kicked off her shoes in the hallway just as Jon crept down the stairs with Gendry in tow. As soon as he saw her, his look of amusement returned.

Jon frowned, “what were you doing—”

“Leave me alone, Jon.” She pushed past him, desperately running up the stairs two steps at a time to get away from the pair before Gendry exposed her. 

But he said nothing, and Arya made it up to her room on the second floor without so much as an inch of harassment. 

Neither Gendry nor Jon ever mentioned the cigarette to her, or anyone.

 

—

 

She was seventeen and she’d been invited to her first house party.

Arya wasn’t like Sansa or Robb; she wasn’t a natural born socialite, fond of going to and organising events like second nature. She wasn’t even like Rickon or Jon, who weren’t as extroverted but had a close knit group of wild friends who got up to all kinds of shit. Maybe she was more like Bran, but he at least had a best friend.

Her first year of sixth form had been tough, but it was better than secondary school—which wasn’t really a hard thing to achieve. She’d taken sociology, history and media, and she didn’t dislike any of them so far. People spoke to her at school, but no one went out of their way. But she liked her teachers, and the workload in first year had been manageable.

The only reason she’d gotten an invite to the house party was because Sansa was allowed a plus one, and Arya was only allowed to be said plus one after much hassling. Jon had said he already had a plus one; traitor.

Choosing what to wear almost sparked a Stark civil war, as Sansa refused to be seen dead with whatever Arya decided to put on. Eventually, she was ushered via bribery into a simple black dress with a skater skirt—a  _ dress _ . The words ‘out of’ and ‘comfort zone’ came to her mind very quickly.

Jon was back from the first part of his gap year travels and was both driving them to, and attending, the party. The trio were en route when Arya noticed they’d taken a detour which was driving them further away from their destination.

“Hey, you missed the turn.” she frowned at Jon in the passenger seat.

“Nope.” he turned onto a row of terraced houses. Arya didn’t think she’d ever even been to this side of town, which was crowded with council estates made up of identical terraces and corner shops.

Sansa wasn’t even paying attention; she was flicking through the pages of a dog eared book she’d been keeping on her at all times recently. Her half brother jumped out of the car and jogged up to a grey door, before knocking thrice. 

Arya stared out of the passenger window as Gendry appeared in the doorframe, dressed in worn out jeans and a loose sweater. She shrunk down in her seat.

Before college, boys were all just like her brothers. Which was to say, more tolerable than a lot of the girls in her classes, not many of which seemed to ever like Arya. Now she was irritated by how cute the boy a few rows in front of her in history class was, and the how she’d developed all these  _ other  _ feelings that she hadn’t been fussed with in secondary school.

Gendry Waters was no exception. In fact, she blamed him; he’d been a catalyst in these new revelations, hanging around their house every week looking like  _ that _ .

He’d always been nice to look at, she’d supposed as she rationalized it. The strange heat whenever she saw him, or he saw her, was not welcome. She felt flushed-- _ embarrassed _ \--and she hated it. Their arguments had only gotten more frequent, and over more stupid things. Jon made a conscious effort to not even lead Gendry into the same room as Arya now. 

The pair stood to have a chat in the doorway, and Arya watched with knitted brows as Gendry pulled out a cigarette for him and Jon and lit them.

Sansa wasn’t bothered, her head buried in her book. She was fine being fashionably late. Her friends probably wouldn’t even turn up until nearly midnight, anyway.

Arya purposefully slipped her elbow over the car’s horn. Jon nearly jumped out of his skin, and Gendry’s eyes widened as he whipped his head to her. As their eyes met, his mouth curved upwards, expression softening, and he raised his hand limply in a small and humoured wave. Arya seethed, turning away without further acknowledging him.

She caught Jon mumbling something, and they stubbed out their cigs a moment later.

“Thank you.” Arya bit as Jon slipped back in beside her, her arms crossed across her chest tightly.

“You’re welcome, m’lady.” she could hear the grin in Gendry’s voice from the backseat.

“Jesus, can we get to the party before you rip each other’s heads off at least?” Jon swore, pulling off the side of the road and back towards the party’s destination. Arya huffed like a child having a tantrum. She was sure Sansa’s eyes were rolling far into the back of her head behind them.

Jon attempted to lift the growing tension by connecting his phone to the AUX cord. Her brother’s music taste was eclectic, but he was generally the stereotypical moody indie boy, brewing with angst and ledger of failed and tragic romances.  _ Arctic Monkeys _ came on first, and Arya was plenty fine with that. She just couldn’t handle a car ride of the drawling and monotone caterwauling of Liam Gallagher.

If Arya had thought her was a little fancy, the house they arrived at put the Stark’s to shame. Where there’s was traditional, this was a modern monstrosity. Privacy was apparently not a priority, as half the walls were made up of glass that allowed them to look directly into the party. There were no neighbours, as it sat on the outskirts of the suburbs, verging on countryside territory. Which also meant the party could be pretty loud without consequence, and it was instantly evident this was being taken advantage of.

Arya’s stepped out of the car, rubbing her arms against the goosebumps on her skin. She’d convinced herself she was Northern enough to not need a jacket, and she was going to stick by that decision. Sansa took the lead, which was fine considering she was Arya’s ticket into the part. The front door was wide open, people spilling out and onto the front lawn in various states of intoxication.

Sansa greeted a girl in the doorway with a huge hug, wrapping her arms around her neck and squealing something or other about how  _ great a party it looked _ . Arya hung in her sister’s shadow, eager to just get in there and get shitfaced.

“After you, m’lady,” a voice beside her ear said, making her flinch.

She turned on him, fists clenched as she found his goddamn attractive face too close to her own. “If you call me that one more fucking time, Gendry, I swear--”

Her brother slid inbetween them, “I’m not spending this entire night breaking you two up, okay? Cut the shit.” he threw her a pleading look, “please.”

She sucked in her lower lip, feeling a hint of shame. Jon was admittedly her favourite, and disappointing and upsetting him had always felt like a betrayal. They had each other’s backs.

Arya nodded, stepping back from her brother and his best friend with her eyes cast low. “Got it.”

Jon looked at Gendry expectantly.

“What?”

He thumped his hand against the side of Gendry’s head.

“Ow, fuck! Alright, I’ll leave the princess alone.” he smiled begrudgingly at Jon, rubbing his temples. Then she could feel his eyes on her, “sorry, have a good night, Arya.” with that, he pushed past them both and into the swarm of bodies, Jon following quickly behind him.

The apology should’ve made her feel better. It didn’t. Now Gendry was gone and he was going to avoid her all night, and something about the idea of that hollowed out a pit in her stomach. Yeah, he got on her nerves. But his teasing was a constant in her life she  _ could  _ live with. Maybe.

“Arya, c’mon.” Sansa huffed, ushering Arya up the steps and through the threshold. She’d somehow procured a drink already. “I’m not gonna give you alcohol, god knows I don’t want to get lectured by mum. But if I happen to see you with some, I never saw it. Got it? And don’t get pissed.”

Chewing the inside of her cheek, Arya nodded and rolled her eyes as if Sansa was just boring her. Sansa kissed her teeth under her breath and guided her little sister further into the thrum of the party.

Each room was bursting with people doing various shit; drinking, dancing, kissing, sniffing, vomiting, playing games and breaking things. Arya felt electrified by the energy and the possibilities. They reached a crossroad of rooms, and ripping herself away from Sansa’s side, she chose a room and didn’t look back.

She recognised a couple of people, upper sixth students from last year and even a few from her year. Some of Sansa and Jon’s old friends and a couple of kids who just lived in their neighbourhood. A table full of half empty bottles of various drinks beckoned her. Arya hadn’t drank much previously, she hadn’t had much opportunity. When she was fifteen, Jon had gotten her drunk for a laugh--whilst he was also drunk--and she’d hiccuped for hours before throwing up in one of Catelyn’s plant pots. She did  _ not  _ want to relive that tonight.

Taking a leap, she poured herself a small amount of vodka and topped the cup up with coca cola. She took sips of it as she turned around the room, wondering where she could insert herself. The music thumped in her ears, conflicting with the TV blaring at the other end of the room.

“Arya? Arya Stark?” the shocked call of her name, had her bumping against people to find the caller, until she noticed a familiar face waving to her across the sea of bodies.

Her forehead creased, “Jeyne?” she called in confusion.

Jeyne nodded wildly, a sloppy smile plastered on her face. She was one of Sansa’s friends, and not particularly Arya’s favourite person. “What the hell are you doing here!” not a question, but an exclamation, as she shoved her way towards Arya.

“Sansa.” she replied anyway.

“Oh, of course!” Jeyne’s face was flushed and her eyes fluttered lazy and she danced absently to the beat of the music. “You never come to these things, Arya!”

_ I never get invited _ .

She nodded shortly, raising her eyebrows.

Jeyne’s sweaty palm grabbed hers. “Come! They’re playing better music in the other room. You should totally dance with me!” she was shouting louder than necessary, and Arya could feel people’s eyes on them. 

In an adjacent room, the busic thumped louder, and the lights were dimmer. Arya couldn’t make out the faces around her clearly as they swayed and blurred, but she was largely thankful for that. She tipped back the rest of her drink in a rush—forgetting it was alcoholic—and drew away with her head starting to spin.

Jeyne got her a new drink. And another. And another.

Arya’s gaze shifted so everything was rose tinted. She felt light, found it easy to dance without caring about what anyone thought, to talk to people she’d never met. 

She’d completely forgotten who she’d even come to the party with until she bumped into a familiar face in the kitchen whilst making herself a drink of whatever was left. Her hands shook unevenly as she poured some white spirit into a cup and topped it up with some lemonade, only to pour it all over the shirt of someone stood right behind her.

“Fuck,” she swore in a slur, head pounding as she looked into the bemused face of Gendry Waters, his torso soaked. 

“Jesus, Arya.” he muttered whilst wiping his shirt front with his sleeve. A small giggle escaped her lips, earning her a sharp look from the older boy. “How much have you had to drink?”

When she shrugged dazedly, the look in Gendry’s eyes changed. He shifted into a different mode, his body language altering as he took the now empty cup from her hand and placed it on the kitchen islands countertop. 

“Say the alphabet backwards.” he demanded.

Arya scoffed, “name one person who can even do that  _ sober _ .”

“Walk in a straight line then.”

Rolling her eyes, Gendry stepped away from her and held out his hands, daring her to walk towards him like a sober woman. One step and her knees wobbled like jelly, and she resisted reaching out to the counter for support. Three steps and so far so good.  _ She’d show Gendry _ .

Only an arms length away, Arya’s fifth step smacked her with a wave of sickness, and she buckled on her left side. He was wrapped around her in an instant, just barely saving her head from cracking off the kitchen counter. Instantly, she let go, relaxing into him as he supported her body. Her inhibitions had melted away. 

Gendry’s hands on her waist guided Arya gently up the stairs, into unexplored territory. She hiccuped and snuggled her head against his chest, forgetting their arguments and forgetting their past disputes. The rise and fall of his chest was the focus of her mind, the smell of his cologne and the sensation of his biceps caged around her.

_ Get it together, _ the drowned out, sober part of her mind scolded. Instead, when they reached the top of the staircase she looped her arms around his neck and hoisted herself up to wrap her legs around his waist. He grunted, but was otherwise silent, and adjusted his grip to support her back whilst she buried her sleepy head into the crook of his neck.

“Hey, Arya, c’mon. Don’t fall asleep on me now.” he whispered, pushing open the bedroom door with his foot.

The next thing she properly registered was the soft cloud she’d been laid on. She fell back and balled her fists in the duvet, wrapping herself up, only to have Gendry prise her hands off it moments later.

“You need to sit up. I’m gonna get Jon--”

“No!” she cried, eyes widening as if suddenly awake. Arya gripped the sleeve of Gendry’s sweater, pleading. “Can we just… stay here a while.”

Gendry looked far from convinced. He gave her a wary look that turned into sudden discomfort and shock as Arya slumped against his chest, nestling into the soft fabric of his sweater. She inhaled his scent; smoke and cheap beer. His hands hovered around her awkwardly but she didn't care or take notice. Maybe not arguing with Gendry was actually quite nice. Maybe she liked it. Or maybe she was just drunk.

Either way, she revelled in snuggling closer to him, waving off the bouts of nausea. 

“If you’re sick on me, I swear to god.” he muttered, shuffling around as he linked his arms together around her. 

“You’d probably deserve it.”

She cocked her head up at him, at the stubble defining his jawline and his startling blue eyes, looking back at her with a concern she didn’t recognise. 

The alcohol in her system seemed to amplify everything, and Arya’s futily buried attraction to him was no exception. The longer she looked at his features the more overwhelmed she felt. Her hands wandered without her thinking, exploring the length of his arms and the curves of his biceps. She trailed her way slowly to his chest, her palms settling over his pounding heartbeat. 

“ _ Arya _ ,” his tone had shifted into a different kind of concern, but Arya was preoccupied with the shape of his lips. 

Gendry’s hand snatched her wrist as she raised her hand towards his face, wondering what his 5 o’clock shadow would feel like beneath her fingers. 

She pouted, “what was that for?” her words didn’t seem like her own; the alcohol had her slurring her sentences.

He didn’t answer her, his jaw wired tensely shut as she could see him clenching and unclenching. His grip loosened, and Arya’s mind kicked into overdrive as she surged forward on a drunken whim.

The moment her lips met his, she remembered she had no idea what she was doing.

Arya hadn’t kissed anyone before. She would’ve been too drunk to care if she hadn’t noticed that he wasn’t kissing her back. Gendry’s hands were hardly even touching her and she was straddled eagerly across his lap.

Stung and confused, she recoiled from him and knitted her brows into a frown. “You don’t like me?”

Gendry’s scrubbed his face with his palm. His thumb stroked gentle, soothing circles over the fabric of her dress on her waist. “We can’t, Arya.” was all he said.

Not entirely discouraged, she pushed into him again, rocking her hips forward as she took his lips between her own. She smiled against his kiss as he pushed back, allowing her a few moments to revel in the sensation of her first kiss before he separated himself from her.

“You’re  _ seventeen _ ,” he sighed, taking his hands off of her completely. “You should be having fun downstairs with your other seventeen year old friends.”

“I don’t have any.” she shrugged, the alcohol making the truth of the statement hurt less. “And seventeen is legal, I’m  _ consenting _ . We haven’t done anything wrong!” Arya dipped her head to plant kisses along the nape of his neck, eliciting a soft hum from him. 

“You know that Jon wouldn’t like this.”  _ why should she care? He didn’t control her life _ . “ _ And _ , you can’t consent when drunk.”

“‘M not drunk.” she boldly lied.

Gently, Gendry lifted her off him, setting her back down on the bed beside him. “Get some sleep.” his voice seemed to be losing all sense of recognisable emotion, as if detaching himself from the conversation. “I’ll let the host know you’re in here.”

“Can we talk about it in the morning?” she called after him as he made for the bedroom door, prepared to leave Arya to sleep it off. 

Gendry sighed, stood in the doorway and half in shadow. “You won’t remember in the morning, love.”

 

—

 

The front door creaked agonisingly as Arya tried to open it with the minimal amount of sound. It groaned as she slipped inside, and she desperately prayed the sound was low enough to not have been heard upstairs. It was late, and Arya’s clothes stank of weed.

She’d been hanging out with the guys--the stoners at her college--until she’d inevitably got bored and sick of them, wandering home on her own with her high wearing off. Lommy had been chugging a bottle of Lucozade like it was the last substance on Earth when she’d left. The girl Edric had brought along had been sat in his lap, tracing kisses along the blonde boy’s neck and jaw as if no one else was there watching them. Hot Pie had gotten the munchies. Arya had kind of wanted to just go home. 

Her jacket would have to undergo a serious wash and spray treatment. If her parents even had a suspicion she’d been smoking weed, grounding her wouldn’t have been punishment enough. As she kicked off her shoes, she noticed a dim glow from the kitchen.

Swearing to herself under her breath, Arya crept towards the kitchen door and peeked through the space where it had been left ajar.

She pushed the door open fully, “what the fuck are you doing here?” 

Gendry’s head whipped up from his phone, his surprise almost having him topple off his chair. “Fucking hell, Arya.” he chuckled airily. “A warning would’ve been nice.”

The door clicked shut behind her as she slipped in, arms folded across her chest as she approached him at her kitchen table. “Jon’s doing a late shift. He’s not even here. Why are you?”

“Jon finished his shift,” was his only explanation for his appearance. Gendry cocked a brow at her, and she caught his eyes looking over her suspiciously. “It’s gone 3AM.”

“No it hasn’t.” she argued, for no particular reason, and without much fight in her.. 

He shrugged, grinning as he abruptly bent closer to take a sniff of Arya’s jacket. She didn’t recoil in time, and he reclined back in his chair, kissing his teeth in mock disapproval. “Now  _ that’s  _ interesting.”

Arya’s panic levels rose, “Gendry, I swear to  _ fuck  _ if you say anything to  _ anyone _ .” she warned through gritted teeth, fists clenched.

Hands raised in mock surrender, he laughed lightheartedly as Arya slumped tiredly into a seat at the table beside him. She glanced at the clock and cringed at the time. It was the summer holidays, but she had to get up in five hours to get ready for her new job.

They settled into a silence, Arya half falling asleep but too lazy to drag herself up two flights of stairs, and Gendry scrolling amiably through his phone.

“Hey, do you remember when I caught you trying to smoke? When you were, like, fifteen?”

Arya stared up at him with wide eyes. She remembered that, of  _ course  _ she did. It had been mortifying. But she’d have never fathomed such a small incident in the grand scheme of his own life would stick with him.

She nodded, her eyes falling to the upwards curve of his lips.

“I thought it was adorable, to be honest. Did you ever end up smoking?”

“No,” she chewed her lower lip, suddenly aware of the strange intimacy of a late night (or early morning) walk down memory lane alone with Gendry in her kitchen. The cool air and the ambience of the woods behind her house seeped in through the open window. “I actually still haven’t ever smoked a cigarette.”

Gendry’s face contorted in confusion, “but… you smoke weed?” He shook his head, humoured by her casual shrug. It wasn’t like she was an avid stoner, anyway. “Do you want to go out for a smoke now? I’m kind of craving one.”

They stood almost in the exact spot he’d caught her in two summers before this one. The street lamp flickered, and the wildlife around them was beginning to stir awake. The early morning glow of the slowly rising sun cast long shadows across the pavements. Her little suburban cul-de-sac was dormant and sleepy, as per usual.

She watched his fingers fiddle with an envelope, until she realised he was rolling his own cigarette, instead of smoking straights. His fingernails were cut short, and she imagined the pads of his fingers to be rough from his work at the garage. She’d only know if he reached out to her.

“Here,” he ran his tongue along the paper, securing it down, and handed the cig to Arya neatly rolled. 

He passed her the lighter, and she almost laughed at the irony. She still struggled with them.

Gendry noticed her struggle, and put on a smile that was supposed to be you've-inconvenienced-me, but came off like I'd-be-more-than-happy-to-help-you. Placing his own cig between his lips unlit, he reached around Arya and placed his hands over hers. Two quick brushes and he lit it, raising her hands up to light the cig between her lips. It was the closest contact they’d had in almost a year, and Arya felt highly strung at the idea of it. 

“Thanks,” she mumbled, looking down as she felt Gendry’s eyes linger on with interest for a moment longer.

It didn’t burn her throat like a blunt. But knowing she wouldn’t feel the high took something away from the enjoyment of it. A nicotine rush was nowhere near the same. They stood on the corner, in the shadows and silently exhaling smoke.

“You have a funny way of smoking.” Gendry noted, his tone almost unreadable. Though, it didn't seem unkind.

She narrowed her eyes, “how so.”

“It’s almost dainty. It’s just funny.”

“I’m not dainty?” Arya  _ knew  _ she wasn’t dainty; winding Gendry up or starting a fight when he made a comment about her was just an instinct. 

“Nah.” he exhaled slowly, “you’re like a storm. You’re a force of nature, Arya, and you’re anything but dainty. You make noise. You’re loud and bold and, quite frankly, amazing.”

She wasn’t sure this was reality. Was this all a lucid dream? “Shut up.” she muttered self consciously, unsure how to react to Gendry when they weren’t conversing in insults.

He laughed breezily, “okay.”

A few beats. “Tell me more.” she demanded suddenly, training her eyes on her shoes.

Gendry breathed out a cloud of smoke, tapping ash off the end of his cig. “You're my favourite Stark.”

“Don't lie.”

“I'm not.”

“But all we do is argue.”

“And I guess I enjoy it. Is that, I don't know, sadistic?”

“You get off on our arguments.” Arya deadpanned.

Gendry’s face soured. “Don't put it like that. We just have a kind of banter that's, like, unique. It's fun. I have five other friends like Jon, and I love him and he's my best friend, but you're just different.” He shrugged, as if he hadn't just declared Arya one of the best people in his life.

Had they gotten closer? The morning air had a bite to it. Arya hid her free palm in the sleeve of her jumper, the cigarette in the other practically forgotten and almost burned out.

“We can go in if you're cold?” He offered, noticing, of course.

“No.”  _ Tell me more nice things _ .

“You Stark’s handle the cold better than anyone I know. Or, you're just stubborn. Probably both.” Gendry grinned at her, and something slipped into place in Arya’s head. Something about his smile made one appear on her own lips, a warmth spread in the pit of her stomach and an aching to be nearer to him grow.

She dropped the cig and reached out her hand to his face suddenly, before being struck with a wave of tentativeness that had her palm hovering centimetres from his.

His eyes focused on her, big and bright and blue and consuming. He was so handsome and so infuriating, but Arya thought that happened to be the perfect combination.

Gendry broke their silence, “do you remember when you tried to kiss me last year?”

Arya felt red. Her hand didn't move.

“ _ Tried? _ ” She's definitely gotten further than an attempt, from what she could remember.

Gendry almost managed to keep a smirk at bay. 

“Yeah,” her fingers danced so close to his cheek, “I guess I do.”

“You looked so beautiful that night. But it just wasn't right. You were a hundred yards away from sober, and seventeen, and your siblings were downstairs and I knew they'd batter me if they saw us like- like  _ that _ .” Arya straddled across his lap, he meant.

“What's changed?”

“Who says anything has?”

She dropped her hand. “Oh.”

Gendry’s brow furrowed, “hey, no, no.” He was cupping her face then, cold hands making her shiver, their cigarettes forgotten. “ _ Not _ what I meant. This is exactly why I failed English GCSE. I just meant, you're still the most beautiful girl I know, Arya. And I'm still terrified of Jon catching us like this.” He laughed it off, but she wouldn't have been surprised if he was serious. Jon would definitely have a fit.

Arya placed her hands over his, dragging him closer. “Kiss me, then. It's your turn.”

“We’re taking turns now?”

“You're so bullheaded.” Her eyes rolled back in her head just as Gendry’s mouth came down on her own, slow and hard, their lips slanting over each other at a pace that was almost agonising. Arya’s mind raced a million miles an hour in contrast, processing and trying to remember this feeling.

His hands slipped down to her waist as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling their bodies flush against each other. She ran her fingers through his hair, buzzed short. When he slid his palms over her ass, she almost jumped around his hips like some kind of monkey in a bid to get closer.

She was insatiable. She couldn't drink him in fast enough, and god, had she been thirsty. 

When he pulled away to catch his breath, Arya could feel the swell of her lips under her tongue and the racing of her heart in her chest with immense intensity. His hands slipped under the fabric of her sweater to graze her skin, the pads of his fingers softer than she’d anticipated. 

“Why did you stop?” she pouted, like a child.

Gendry let out a short laugh, smiling down at her with admiration and hilarity. “Breathing is a pretty essential part of not dying.”

“I don’t want to slow down.”

“We won’t, love.” he assured her, pinching her hips and leaning down to kiss her slowly. She inhaled his scent, cigarette smoke and lemon washing detergent mingled with cheap aftershave. “But if we don’t head back inside, we’ll get caught by the neighbours soon enough.” He brought her hands up to his mouth and pressed a kiss against her knuckles gingerly. The softness of it made chew her bottom lip out of nervous habit, flustered and reluctant to show it.

Back in the house, Arya had expected Gendry to follow her up to her room. She jogged up two steps at a time, getting to the top before realising he wasn’t behind her. Once inside, he’d shrugged on his denim jacket and come to stand at the bottom of the staircase, hands in his pockets.

“You’re going.” she pointed out with a frown, feeling a muddle of angry and disappointed.

“Arya,” he sighed, “I can’t be found in your room in a few hours. If I was someone else it might not be as big a deal, but your parents  _ know  _ me. Fuck, they  _ trust  _ me. We can’t be heavy footed with  _ this _ ,” he gestured between them, “like them finding me in your bed.”

“So you  _ would  _ come to my bed?” Arya taunted, raising a brow.

Gendry only chuckled, “you’re gonna get me in so much trouble.”

She hopped down the stairs, stopping a few from the bottom so she was closer to Gendry’s height and she was able to link her arms around his neck and pull him in. He didn’t resist, kissing her back in a sloppy but happy exchange.

Arya closed the door behind him, making sure the soft click was quiet enough to not be heard, and fell back against the hard wood. She ran her fingers along her lips, replaying over and over the moment he’d kissed her back, and wondering how their lives had lead to this. Jon was going to flip his  _ shit _ .

**Author's Note:**

> soooo kudos/comment if u actually liked any of this that would b super cool!! and hmu on tumblr stacygwehn.tumblr.com yeehaw


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